APRIL SYLKRANA IS DETERMINED TO RISE. After the devastating news of her mother, the Imperial High Queen's, death, she only has one job before she can take what is rightfully hers: kill her half-brother, June. Not only is he elusive and serious about...
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2412, Iclis 12, Briss
April pulled at the knots her hair was twisted into. She told her maids to not overdo it, but look at them now. Not only did they almost rip the blond locks off the hairline, her temples felt like they were being squished between two large boulders. Damned servants. She wasn't here for a feast or a ceremony. It's a damned summon from the Seelie Court.
Those old witches were finally good for something.
It wasn't even a full day after she heard of the High Queen's murder. She knew who was responsible due to the work of her spies, but when she received the official summons a few hours later, no one could decipher what it's for. Shouldn't April be the High Queen with her title as the Crown Princess? Why was she strutting across Edgerift's bridges as if she's going to trial?
Maybe it was dread or the nerves, but all sorts of alibis flashed into her mind. Her thoughts shot off in wild directions, each one trying to refute and support each one. It was when she reached the wide doors of the Imperial Palace did she realize how pointless thinking was. Too much of it, and she'd lose her feathers before she even heard the Seelie Court out.
She heaved a huge breath, shoulders rising and falling. The tension remained between her shoulder blades, squeezing until her temples throbbed. Or maybe it was from clenching her jaw too hard. Or her fists. Her hands, no matter how stiff and mechanical, smoothed her periwinkle skirt, erasing whatever crease that arose during her mad flight from Falkirta. Perhaps, the maids had their point. The wind would have shuffled and tangled April's hair to a vulkraine's nest had they not locked it in place.
But she's not flying now, was she? The braids could go.
The red coats flanking the Imperial Palace's gates looked twice as she strolled by with fingers buried in her locks, casually pulling the pins and other decorations out. The satchel bouncing against her leg received those without ceremony. She'd figure out how to fix the stuff inside later. Right now, the Masters would have to hear the sharp end of her mind.
They couldn't even give her a proper week to grieve. That's how professional they were.
Not like April to take them on that generosity, though. The High Queen, while related to April by blood, could go and mess herself. Being absent throughout April's lifetime could do that. She only saw her mother during campaigns in Falkirta, and even there, they never get more than half an hour together. Most of those precious minutes were spent asking each other pointless questions. They needed to show the rest of the island they have the best relationship, after all. It didn't matter if the truth couldn't be more than the opposite.
So, no. April wasn't sad because her mother was gone—through murder, no less. She didn't know the woman, anyway.
But one thing she did know was the loss of an opportunity. Being the Crown Princess came with its benefits. After the High Queen's demise, April would be the one to assume absolute power over Umazure. Every error she saw in the systems on the island, she could correct. Nothing would stop her, and not even the Seelie Court could do anything about it. Her influence wouldn't stop in Falkirta. Not anymore.
